I woke up early this morning. My bedroom was mostly dark, but some light managed to sneak in from the street lamp between the panels of window coverings. There was just enough light to outline one side of the cherubic face of my little boy as I put my hand on this chest and felt his heart beating there fast, steady, and strong.
As I looked at him, ran my fingers lightly over his cheeks, and pressed my face against his I thought about the awesome responsibility of raising this boy. This child came into the world a blank slate. All that it is written on him, both good & bad, comes from my hand at this point.
I think I'm doing OK so far.
Hanging by a Thread
1 month ago
